The Singer and the Tramp
by Foxcat93
Summary: Another "Little Tramp" story...contains drama, humor, a murder mystery/trial and a bit of an odd love story. Rated T for the murder part - nothing gory though. Please read and review!
1. A Lovely Voice

Sonya hurried along the street. Newly arrived from the Russian Opera Company, she was late to her appointment at the opera theatre where she was to meet her co-stars. She had lost her way and was walking fast to make up time. She ruefully realized it would have been better to hire a cab than to try to walk this distance in her high heels. Her long white gown and pearls set off her tall slim figure. Her red hair was carefully coiffed into a mass of lovely curls on top of her head, and arranged with pearls and lace. Her white fox fur was coiled artfully around her neck and the ends fell across her bodice.

Sonya liked to daydream. She was indeed on her way to the opera house to work, but her real job was cleaning the theatre. She worked alone on the stage and in the auditorium itself, cleaning, and daydreaming helped make the time go faster and the work easier. She wasn't Russian either, but thinking that made her name Sonya seem more exotic.

Sonya was really dressed in a long, light blue dress with a black overcoat. She was slim, but petite, not tall. Her overcoat had a few patches on it. Her hat was old fashioned, too, it had belonged to her grandmother. It was about twenty years old, a cloche hat in light blue, with an artificial flower that stood up straight on the front. Her long red, curly hair, which she wore pinned up, peeked out from under the cloche. Her ensemble looked to be from perhaps 1910, but the year was now 1936. She was 21 years old and still not married. She felt like an old maid, but who would have her in her shabby clothes? Thus, the daydreaming.

Sonya really did have a beautiful contralto voice. Sometimes, when she was alone, she sang in the theatre to the empty seats, daydreaming that she was the head liner. She sang at home, too, having learned the arias with the foreign words from her mother before she had passed away, then later by listening to her mother's Victrola recordings and sheet music.

And Sonya wasn't really late for work. She realized she was walking quite fast and checked her watch, which was pinned to her bodice. She had plenty of time. She slowed down a bit and continued walking. She paused at a stop light to wait for her turn to walk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some movement under an auto mobile parked next to the curb.

Thinking there must be a stray dog or cat under the auto, she peered down and was astonished as a small man emerged from under the car. She was bent down looking right at him, but he was peering backwards at something and didn't see her. He walked right into Sonya, knocking her over. Surprised, he offered his hand to help her up.

The little man made sure she was all right, brushed off her coat with a ragged handkerchief and tipped his hat to her, all without saying a word, then started to run. He made the corner fast on one leg, the other straight out in front of him. She walked to the corner to watch him. He carried a walking stick horizontally in his left hand. He ran very fast, but with a weird gait she had never seen before. He was holding on to his hat with his right hand as he ran. She wondered where he was going in such a hurry. Sonya continued across the street and the little man had disappeared.

* * *

The little man, who was a homeless tramp, was running from the police. He was always hungry, having no money, and he made a practice of walking by the open market fruit stands in the morning and pocketing fruit and bread here and there when the proprietor was not looking. He was normally very good at it, but today, he had dropped a particularly slippery banana and although he had put it back right away, the fruit stand owner had alerted the police officer who was standing nearby.

After running a short distance, he stopped, knowing he wouldn't be pursued any further for just pilfering fruit. He decided to get rid of the evidence and he ate his fruit and bread. Not having anything in particular to do, he decided to see if he could find some short term work. He really wasn't in any hurry to find work and he wandered idly about the streets looking through the plate glass windows at all the things he would never be able to afford anyway. But that didn't bother him. He looked in every shop window for signs saying "Help Wanted".

He wandered for several hours without finding any jobs posted. He saw another police officer and ducked into an alley to avoid any trouble. He peeked around the corner and the officer had gone. The little vagrant continued wandering about. He stopped in front of a large, fancy, white building. He read the posters near the door which told of some type of show that was coming up…but he couldn't read them. It was not that he couldn't read, he could read, and fairly well, too, but they were in a strange language.

The tramp heard something from inside the building. It sounded like music, singing…he was intrigued and tried the door. It was open. There was a large vestibule inside, but it was dark, only a bit of light coming from windows high above him. What he could see was very lavish, marble pillars and carved ivory cornices. He walked on to an area lit up with skylights. He looked up. The rococo ceiling was painted blue and the edges were gilded with stars. Classical statues in white marble were standing along the walls of the chamber.

The music was coming from within, on the far side of the sky lit area. He pushed open a door timidly. It was pitch black except for the stage. There was a stage spotlight trained on a woman on the stage who was singing a capella. The tramp was entranced. What a beautiful voice! He couldn't understand a word, though, but that didn't matter. The voice was captivating.

As his eyes became used to the dark, the tramp could see that there were seats in the theatre. He found one near the back and sat down. He realized the woman couldn't see him. He didn't want to be seen. She finished her aria. He wanted to clap, but again, didn't want her to know he was there. She started a new song.

When the woman finished her song; this time the tramp forgot himself and jumped up clapping his hands loudly, then caught himself in mid-clap. The woman seemed shocked and stood still. "Who's there?" she cried. The tramp stood still, his hand over his mouth, having shocked himself, then ran out the door. He took a turn and ran up some stairs. They led to the upper gallery with seats looking down on the stage.

The woman quickly ran behind the curtains on the stage and turned on the main theatre house lights. She scanned the seats and called out again, "Who's there?" No one answered.

Above in the upper gallery, the tramp was hiding so she couldn't see him. He hoped she'd sing again. But she didn't turn out the lights. He sneaked out of the gallery, down the stairs and out the door. He wondered if the place was open all day. It would be a grand place to sleep. Of course, he figured they would probably lock the doors after the performances in the evening. Maybe if he could get in during the day, he might be able to stay hidden until the lights went out for the performance. Then he could hear the woman sing in the opera during the evening. That way he wouldn't have to get a ticket, which he knew he could never afford anyway.

He wandered around the rest of the day, getting very hungry again toward evening. He went to the alley behind the fancy restaurant and waited, hiding and watching until they threw out their trash. Then he looked through it for something edible. He found a lot of almost fresh food. He would eat well tonight. He took out his pocket knife and opened it up to stab the pieces of meat and vegetables in lieu of a fork or spoon. His knife and his pocket watch were his only two possessions of any value.

The next order of business was finding a place to sleep. It was a warm night, so there was no need to find a shelter to take him in. All that was needed was to keep out of the way of the cops. It was a fairly easy task if one were careful. Around here, some of the cops had a soft place in their hearts for vagrants anyway, and as long as a person weren't bothering anyone or being a public nuisance or stealing anything, the cops would sometimes look the other way.

The tramp climbed a tree and jumped over to a flat roof. He surveyed the roof, and finding it to his liking, he curled up in a corner. The black roof surface was still warm from the sun, but not hot and it was comfortable. He rolled up his jacket under his head, put his hat over his face and fell asleep.


	2. The Search for the Singer

Sonya loved working at the opera house because even though she never had an audience, she could still sing there. She always got her work done and had time left over for her "performances." No one ever came to bother her and she felt quite comfortable singing to her imagined invisible audience, until today.

Sonya was frightened when she had heard someone clap at the end of her aria. She had turned on the lights, but there was no one to be seen. She walked up and down the aisles, looking for anyone who might be hiding. No one was there.

Sonya hoped there was no one in the opera house today. It made her feel uncomfortable. She decided to leave the lights on and stop singing. She had do get to work anyway. She started by mopping the stage.

* * *

The next morning the little tramp awoke on his roof when the sun got too hot and unbearable. He climbed down the tree and put his jacket back on. He started looking for breakfast again and he took off at a faster pace than usual, swinging his walking stick. He had a mission today and it excited him to have something to do.

After a few ill-gotten pieces of food had found their way to his stomach, he washed them down with water from the drinking fountain and a half bottle of warm beer that he found discarded on the street. On the side walk, he found a nice cigarette stub to smoke. He stood idly in a doorway smoking until the cigarette nearly burned his fingers. Then he tossed it away, kicking it backward with his left foot.

The opera house loomed ahead and he found the door open again. This time he didn't hear any music. He wondered if the singer had come today to practice on the stage. He carefully looked around him as he opened the inner doors. There was a woman on stage, but she was obviously the cleaning woman. She was mopping and had a pail behind her. She wore a dark long dress and had a kerchief around her head.

The tramp decided to explore. Even if he couldn't hear the singer again, this was a fascinating building and he still thought it would be a grand place to sleep. He went up to the gallery again. Shrouded in darkness himself, he could still see the cleaning woman on stage. He climbed more stairs, more galleries higher up. None of these would be good to sleep in - he might be discovered when a performance would start. He wanted to be awake for the opera if it included "his" singer.

The tramp went down the stairs again and found a passageway that led somewhere…where? He didn't know. He followed it and soon he was actually behind the stage. He went down more stairs and then he was under the stage. He could see light above him outlining some cracks in the dark ceiling. He didn't know that these were trapdoors and platforms which actors used to come up and down on the stage during performances. He heard the cleaning woman's mop right above him.

The tramp wandered behind the stage again. He looked up to the catwalk high above him. He could see the huge stage lights in a row, soaring above the stage. Only one was on now, to give the woman light enough to clean. He saw the various backdrops which could be lowered onto the stage to provide atmosphere for the stories. The little tramp was totally fascinated. He wondered if he could climb up to the catwalk without the woman seeing him. He decided against it, too risky. He would wait till "his" singer was on stage again, practising.

The tramp explored more and found there were a whole series of passageways leading various places in the opera house. He even found the costume room where the fancy opera clothes were kept. He went through rows and rows of wonderful male and female clothing, some of them bright and dazzling, some historical, some fanciful. He had entered a world of enchantment. Now he knew he had to see "his" singer in her performance. But how could he be sure when she would be singing? He didn't even know her name. And he couldn't make head nor tail out of the strange language printed on the posters.

The tramp climbed the steps to one of the upper boxes. When he arrived, he was chagrined to see the lights out and the stage empty. In the dark, he waited, but the lights stayed out. He fell asleep in the box seat out of boredom.

* * *

Sonya was feeling a bit disquieted today, working alone in the opera house. Ever since the ghostly clapping after her aria yesterday, she was spooked. Today, she thought she heard footsteps several times. She even thought she saw a figure in one of the galleries when she looked up. She didn't feel like singing today and she felt uneasy. She had seen the movie, "The Phantom of the Opera" when she was ten years old and suddenly she thought about a scary figure haunting this opera house. She put it out of her mind; she was being silly. That was just a story. Maybe the noises were only rats. Although that wasn't exactly a comforting thought either.

* * *

The little tramp woke up startled. There were house lights on and he heard someone coming up the steps to the box he was sleeping in. He jumped up and hid behind the velvet curtain. He peeked around the curtain to see a man and woman in evening clothes sit down in the box. He hadn't thought about the fact that when you come to the opera you have to be dressed right. He felt a bit shabby. He kept standing behind the curtain for what seemed an eternity.

Finally the lights went out. He knelt down and leaned against the carved wooden balcony of the box seat and kept the velvet curtain pulled around him. The opera started and the tramp waited for "his" singer to come on the stage. But she didn't show up. Although the sets and costumes were beautiful, the singing was incredible and the acting was great, the tramp couldn't understand a word and since "his" singer wasn't there, he sat down on the floor behind the curtain. He couldn't see that way, but his knees hurt from kneeling so long.

He sneaked out the back of the box and took a wrong turn, ending up in the basement. He was in the costume room again. No one was there. He had an idea. He looked down the rows of male costumes and found what he was looking for. There was a section of formal clothing, in various sizes. He found a black tailcoat and white waistcoat. Then he found a white shirt and a black bow tie. He fitted a wing collar onto the shirt and changed into the clothes. A black pair of trousers and shoes completed the ensemble. The clothes were a little big, but not bad. He found a top hat and a fancy black cane and ran back up the stairs, after throwing his own bundled up clothes to the back of a walk-in closet.

The tramp strode into the box, feeling elegant. He sat down behind and to the side of the couple. The woman looked at him askance, for coming in late. He carefully watched the stage and tried hard to understand the story. Becoming slightly bored, he put his legs up on the seat in front of him and fell asleep.

He was awakened rudely by an usher. "Mister, you'll have to leave now, they are locking the theatre. Come on, get up." The tramp tipped his hat politely and left the box. He went down to the costume room to get his clothes, first checking to make sure no one was there to see him. He must have slept quite a while, for all the performers had left. He changed and came back up to the main entrance. He tried the door, but it was locked. He checked all the other exits and they were all locked. Well, he would find out if it were a good place to sleep. He didn't have any other choice. He looked in the prop room and found a bed. Not the most comfortable, as it was made for the stage, not sleeping, but he curled up there anyway to wait for morning. In a few minutes he was asleep.


	3. The Phantom of the Opera

In the morning, Sonya unlocked the theatre doors to start her work day. She had a new aria she had learned and wanted to try out. She had begun to think what she had been hearing were just figments of her imagination. She finished mopping and cleaning for the day. It was still six hours before the evening's performance and she had decided to look at the costumes again. She loved perusing them and was truly tempted to try some of them on when singing her arias.

What she didn't know is that the little tramp was inside the large walk-in closet. He was hoping to hear his lady sing today and he had heard the cleaning lady come in and start working. So he had headed over to the costume room thinking to disguise himself so that if the singer saw him, he could make her think him an elegant gentleman, someone that had a right to be there. He had started undressing when he heard someone come in the costume room and he took his own clothes and the formal evening clothes hurriedly into the closet.

Sonya chose a long elegant 17th century dress, wig, hat, shoes and other accessories and went into a dressing room to change. Dressed, the tramp was still waiting in the closet to be able to come out into the dark opera house and hear the diva sing again. The tramp had turned on the light in the closet and had found a white mask of sorts that he put over his face. That way there could be no way she could identify him. He turned off the light, then slipped on something on the floor. He made some noise when he tumbled to the floor and he hoped he hadn't been heard.

Sonya heard the noise and was a bit startled, but she was determined to do her aria in the costume. She left the room and went up on stage to begin. The tramp followed her when he was sure it was safe. He should have sat in the theatre seats, but he was still shy of her seeing him, even with the disguise. He stood in the wings where she couldn't see him, but he had a good view.

She had even put make-up on and with her tall "Madame Pompadour" wig, she looked very different. The tramp was excited to see her and she started singing. It was "his" lady! Her voice gave him shivers of ecstasy. He had never heard such lovely tones. As she came near to the end of the aria, the tramp didn't realize that in his excitement, he had come out from the wings and onto the stage. Sonya glanced over in his direction, stopped singing and screamed. "Erik! No!" She made her exit from the opposite wing.

The tramp was confused. Who was Erik? He looked behind him and there was no one in evidence. He ran after the singer and couldn't find her. In fact, he entered one of the secret passageways and got slightly lost for a little while. Then he found a peep-hole where he could see into the costume room. He saw the cleaning lady putting some clothes away in a closet. He thought he had better change his clothes and get out of the opera house as soon as possible. Maybe he could find out who the singer was.

After trying various ways to get out of the passageway, the tramp accidentally found a button which made a hidden door in the wall open. He quickly changed his clothes. He went out the front doors and stood there. He was hoping the singer was still there and would exit soon. He smoked a cigarette butt he found on the side walk while he was waiting. He realized then that he was very hungry, not having eaten since the previous evening. Well, that could wait a few more minutes.

All of a sudden, the tramp spotted something else on the ground. He picked it up. It was a $10 bill…a veritable fortune! He looked about, but there was no one else in the vicinity. He pocketed the bill.

His singer didn't appear. Only the cleaning lady came out of the door. He recognized her as the same woman he had almost run over several mornings ago. She looked very frightened and pale. Her green eyes looked as if she had seen a ghost. She locked the door.

As she passed him, the tramp touched her arm. She jumped. He smiled and tipped his hat. She smiled nervously, nodded her head and walked on. The tramp followed her. "Ma'am?" he called.

Sonya turned around. "Can I help you?"

"Can I talk wi' y' a minute?" he asked.

"Who are you?"

"Jus' wanted t' ask y' a question." She looked at the tramp. It was the same little man who had knocked her over the other morning.

She nodded and looked back at the opera house. "Let's keep on walking…I've just had a scare."

"Ma'am? Can I buy y' some lunch? If y' wanna talk…" He patted his pocket with the $10 bill.

"That would be nice." Sonya usually didn't go to lunch with men she had known for only two minutes, but she was so shaken up by her weird encounter, that she acquiesced this time.

The tramp took Sonya to a small café nearby. It wasn't fancy, but it wasn't a dive either. Sonya took off her coat and hung it on a peg near the door. They sat at a table across from each other. The tramp didn't take off his hat inside and Sonya kept looking at it. He finally understood and removed it.

The two surveyed each other. Sonya was petite and small-boned. The tramp noticed Sonya's clean, but threadbare and dark, old-fashioned dress and her cloche hat with the perky flower on it. She was very pretty with her curly red hair and green eyes. Her porcelain skin was smooth, without a blemish. It had a golden cast to it. Her lips were small, but full. He thought her to be in her early twenties.

Sonya took in the tramp. He was short, probably only a few inches taller than herself. He was thin and small boned too. He had thick, curly, black hair speckled with a bit of grey. It was cut short in the back, but long and unruly in the front. He wore a small black moustache. He had a long thin face with smile lines about his eyes and mouth. He wore a small cutaway coat and his shirt had a wing collar and a navy blue four-in-hand tie. He sported a short yellow plaid vest. She could see that his grey trousers were outrageously too large for him, even to the point of hanging in a "pocket" in front where there was excess material through which his shirt could be viewed underneath the vest. They also were patched in several places. His shoes were extremely large too.

"I think y' are the same lady what I almost knocked over a few days past, ain't y'?"

She smiled. "Yes. You were in a huge hurry that day…what was going on?" She had a lovely smile. Her teeth were white and perfect.

'Ad to get somewhere fast." He smiled too. His teeth were large and crooked. But he had a nice smile. And his large, bright expressive blue eyes were irresistible.

Sonya laughed, even though he hadn't answered her question. "I'm Sonya…what's your name?"

"Me name's Charlie, Ma'am."

"Please don't be so formal. No one who knows me calls me 'Ma'am.'"

"A'roigh'…I'll call y' Sonya. Tha' a pret'ty nyme."

"Thank you. So what did you want to ask me?"

"Y' work at the op'ra house?"

"Yes."

"Y' know any of them people there what sing?"

"I've heard them sing, but I don't know them personally."

"Y' ge' to 'ear the shows?"

"Yes, because I work there, I get a free ticket for every show. It's not a good seat, but I can hear the music very well."

"Oh, that's wonde'ful, Sonya."

"I don't know, Charlie. I might be quitting that job…I just don't know."

"Sonya, there's a singer I wan' t' 'ear, but I don't know 'er name…"

Sonya was slightly let down because she thought Charlie was interested in her. Well, he was probably too old for her anyway and his clothes looked scruffy, like a tramp. She hoped she wouldn't end up paying for the lunch.

Sonya gave him the names of all the divas who sang at the opera house. He wrote down the names painstakingly on a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket. "Never heard o' none o' them ladies. But I find out."

The waitress took their order. Sonya was quiet. Then she looked over at him. "Charlie, how old are you?"

"Why d' y' ask tha'?" He thought the question a bit rude, especially coming out of nowhere.

"Just wondering. I'm twenty-one, if you're wondering about me."

"Forty-seven."

_Lordy, he's older than my father!_ she thought. Her father was forty-five.

"So wha' was y' upset about when we lef' th' op'ra 'ouse?"

"I saw someone scary on stage…I don't know who it was… I've been hearing sounds the last few days too, sounds like a ghost…oh, I know that sounds silly…I also saw someone in the gallery yesterday…"

Charlie leaned over and patted her hand. "It ain't silly, ducks," he said comfortingly. "Maybe there's someone in the op'ra 'ouse what ain't supposed t' be there…" As he said it, he realized that he had entered the opera house uninvited twice in the last few days. It would be easy for an intruder to gain entrance and these two women had been alone…

"Wha' does this intruder look like?"

"Charlie, do you ever go to the movies?"

"Seen a few…"

"Did you ever see The Phantom of the Opera? Or read the book?"

"No…"

"Well, it's about an opera singer who is kidnapped by a man who's insane…he lives at the opera house…he's horribly disfigured and he wears elegant clothes with a mask over his face….he's very scary and he threatens to kill her boyfriend unless she gives up the boyfriend and goes away with the phantom…"

Charlie started to smile, then he laughed.

"Are you making fun of me, Charlie?" said Sonya in indignation.

"No, Sonya, I jus' figured out who yer phantom is…tell me, is 'is nyme Erik in th' picture?"

"Yes…"

"And were y' singin' y'self on the stage t'day an' t'other day too?"

"Yes…I know I shouldn't have, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Then I knows who yer phantom is!"

"Who is it, Charlie? Who?"

"It's me, ducks."

"What?"

Charlie related his adventures wandering about in the opera house, hearing the lovely voice and meandering in the passageways. He told her about his fascination with the costumes and how he didn't want to be found out, for fear he would be thrown out of the opera house and not be able to hear the lovely voice again. He told her how he had fallen in love with the voice…

"You're in love with my voice? But you didn't know it was me?"

"Never figured a cleanin' lady could sing like that…" he paused. "I don't mean t' be rude, Sonya…"

"So I guess it's a let down to find out it's just me…"

"No, no, Sonya…yer so beautiful…" he took her hands in his… "I'm so unwittin' I didn't put them things together …b'lieve me, it ain't no let-down." He looked very sincere.

Sonya was still shocked that anyone had seen and heard her…she would have to stop daydreaming and doing things like that…

Suddenly the tramp blurted out, "Sonya, would y' let me court y'? I know I ain't much, and I ain't got no good looks…'ope I ain't as scary lookin' as Erik…but…" he stopped. _What am I thinkin'…I ain't even got no job …an' I only known her about a hour…_

Sonya thought he was rather sweet and she was flattered that he thought her beautiful and wanted to court her…but…

"Charlie, you are certainly not ugly and repulsive like Erik…why you're rather…uh…I can't think of the right word…nice-looking. Your hair is beautiful and I love your eyes and your smile…"

"I'm too old, ain't I?"

"Well…you're older than my father…"

"That ain't a good thing." He looked really disappointed.

"Are y' goin' back to yer job at the op'ra 'ouse now tha' y' know there ain't no ghost?"

"Yes, I will." She looked at him. "Do you still want to hear me sing?"

He nodded.

"All right. I'll meet you…where do you live?"

Charlie hesitated… "Pret'y close by…" he said ambiguously.

"Hmmm…" She was thinking…_he's probably homeless…I could do him a good turn by taking him home and letting him sleep in the extra room._

"Penny fer yer thoughts, ducks…" He drew out a penny from his pocket and set it in front of Sonya.

She smiled. "I'll tell you and you don't even have to pay for it. I live with my father…How would you like to rent out our extra room…what do you say?"

"Ain't got no job, Sonya…I could not pay fer no room."

"Okay, then, it's free until you find a job."

"I could not do tha'…and besides, wha' is yer Papa gonna say?"

"He'll say, yes."

"You mus' 'ave 'him wrapped around y' pret' ty li'l finger!"

"I do, Charlie!"

Charlie paid the bill and felt good that he still had some money jingling in his pockets. But he felt very let down that Sonya didn't like him as much as he liked her. As soon as they got outside, Charlie turned her around to face him.

"So, didja say yes or no to me courting' y'? Jus' gotta know…won't ask y' again or bother y' if y' says no…"

Sonya smiled. "I don't recall saying either yes or no…how about maybe?"

Charlie smiled too. "A'roigh'. I'll take maybe. That sounds better than no."


	4. Ed McGuire

Sonya and Charlie walked to her home. She related that her mother had passed away two years ago from pneumonia and her father was very lonely, so they moved in together. Her father ran a hardware store business.

"Charlie, my father is really wonderful and I love him. I think he'll like you too. But please, don't tell him how old you are. I think that would upset him."

"But y' ain't said yes to me courtin' y', Sonya…"

"I know, but he'll think you're my beau anyway. Just act a little kiddish like you did the day I first bumped into you…when you were sneaking under cars, careening around corners and running down streets…"

"Y' mean loike this?" Charlie jumped nimbly on top of a white picket fence and walked along the top of it. Then he jumped down on top of a chalked hop-scotch on the sidewalk and did it perfectly. Then he shimmied up a small tree and jumped down lithely on his feet. Then he did a cart-wheel and a couple jumping jacks. Then he came over to her and handed her the watch that was formerly pinned on her bodice and the little coin purse out of her pocket." Want some more?"

Sonya had her mouth open, laughing. "Charlie, I think you're seven years old, not forty-seven! And you little pickpocket…I didn't even notice those things were missing!" He grinned. The little tramp was beginning to grow on her and she hadn't even known him for twenty-four hours.

They kept on walking. Sonya found herself holding Charlie's hand, even though she hadn't remembered giving it to him. But it felt nice.

"Do you have any family, Charlie?"

"No." The tramp suddenly seemed reticent. She wondered if he had something to hide. She changed the subject.

"So you will work if we find you a job you like?" asked Sonya.

"Yeah; I can do lotsa diff 'rent things, Sonya. I ain't picky."

Sonya smiled. She would find him a job. She wasn't planning to be courted by someone who wasn't working. Odd, she was already thinking about him courting her.

"Tell Pa that you are between jobs and still looking hard. That will get you in good with him. Okay now, rehearse. How old are you, Charlie?"

"Forty-seven."

"No, I said to tell Pa you're younger than that."

"Forty?"

"Younger…"

"Thirty-seven?"

"Younger…"

"Thirty-three?"

"Younger…"

"Seventeen?"

She laughed. "Even I wouldn't believe that! Try thirty."

"I don't think _I_ believe _thirty_, Sonya."

"Try it anyway. She took another good look at him…yes, thirty…I think you can get away with it…"

"Maybe if I dance or somethin' and stay a block away when I meet 'im…"

"It'll be okay." Sonya was actually excited about Charlie staying with them. It was the excitement of a new friend…and she oddly, against her earlier thoughts of just a short time before, hoped it would turn into more than a friendship, but she didn't want to think about that too much in case it didn't.

Charlie wondered about Sonya…she seemed to change her mind quite rapidly and she had told him about her daydreaming. He couldn't fault her for the daydreaming; he had been known to do the same. But she didn't seem to know what she wanted. However, she was very beautiful and her exquisite voice had ensnared him. So he decided to wait and see.

* * *

Sonya's father was a large man, 6 foot 5 and about 300 pounds. He had thinning red hair and a reddish brown moustache. He had a gruff, direct manner and was a bit intimidating the first time anyone met him.

"Pa, this is Charlie. He's between jobs right now. I told him you would let him stay here for a while…he's looking for a job right now…"

"Hmmm," said Pa. "Can't he talk, Sonya? Speak up, young man."

"Yes, sir," said Charlie.

"What are you agreeing to, son?"

"Yeah, I c'n talk."

"Where ya from, young man?"

"Born in London, England, sir."

"Oh, a limey, well, welcome to the States."

"I been 'ere a while, sir."

"How long?"

"Few years." Charlie felt like he was being grilled by the police. He also didn't want to say the truth, twenty-two years.

"How old are ya?"

"Thirty, sir."

"Thirty? Well, aren't you a bit old to be taking out my daughter?"

"Would y' like seventeen any better?"

Pa laughed. "Yer a funny one! Hey, what's wrong with yer pants? Looks like they fit me better than you!"

"Me trousers is jus' a bi' too big. They suit me foine," said Charlie with dignity. Pa was beginning to be slightly irritating.

"What line of work you in?"

"I do anything…Jack o' all trades, sir."

"Master of none, too, I'm sure. Well, it just so happens I have an opening in my store just right for a little fella like you."

"I'm strong, sir; I c'n work loike anyone."

"Was just a figure of speech. Well, with you two little people around here, I'm gonna feel like Gulliver when he met the midgets."

"Sir, I ain't so small, yer jus' extra tall."

Pa liked that and he slapped Charlie on the back, almost knocking him over. "So, little fella, come tomorrow morning, I'll show you around my store."

"Sir, me name is Charlie. I would be pleased if y'd call me tha'."

"Okay, Charlie it is! I'm Edward McGuire. You can call me Ed."

"Noice meetin' y' Eddy." They shook hands.

"We're just going to sit on the back porch, Pa…then I'll show Charlie to his room," said Sonya.

"Don't you try any funny stuff with my daughter now, little fella!"

"I won't, Eddy!" said Charlie.

* * *

On the back porch, Sonya started to laugh until she cried.

"Wha's so funny, Sonya?"

"Nobody, nobody ever gets away with calling my father Eddy…it's always Ed or Edward or Mr. McGuire, but you just got away with it!"

Charlie grinned. "If 'e don't call me by me nyme, I'll call _'im _Eddy." Didn't like th' 'loimey' label much though."

"Charlie, he doesn't mean anything by it."

"You say y' Mum passed away. Wha' was she loike?"

"Charlie, she was beautiful…I'll show you her picture after while…she was an opera singer. I learned all my arias from listening to her singing, and now from the Victrola recordings she made and her sheet music. Her recordings sold quite well…she was famous. Then a few years ago, she got some throat trouble…ended her career. She always said she loved to sing, and so do I. I always wanted to be like her. But here I am, cleaning on the stage at the opera house instead of singing on it. I guess it's better than nothing…"

"Maybe one day y' sing there - if y' 'as ambition, who knows 'ow far y' can go…"

"Did you ever have any ambitions, Charlie?"

"When I was younger, yeah, I 'ad ambition. Ain't got much now. Been vagabondin' fer so long... Wanderin' from plyce t' plyce. Don't necessarily need t' 'ave a special plyce t' be….jus' live from day t' day. But it's a interestin' loife, done a lotta things, learned a lot. Work when I can, eat when I can, sleep where I can. Lotta freedom in tha'."

He didn't tell her about the times he nearly froze to death out in the cold or when he was literally starving from lack of food. He didn't tell her about his jail time mostly for various petty crimes or sometimes for things he hadn't done. He had tried to settle down quite a few times but it just didn't work out. Something would happen and he'd be back on the streets again' Not that this life would have been his first choice…it just happened…

"Didn't you ever want to settle down, Charlie?"

"Yeah. Jus' never 'appened."


	5. A New Job

Chapter 5

Charlie showed up at Ed's Hardware Store at the appointed time and was told he would be the janitor, errand boy and part time clerk. That was all right. Not an exciting job, but he was determined to succeed so he could be near Sonya.

Ed wasn't a bad boss, sometimes a little overbearing which irritated Charlie, but he found if he handled it with humour, everything worked out all right.

Charlie was an enthusiastic worker, but sometimes a little incompetent and on occasion a little maladroit. Like the time he kept putting the bucket of mop water in the wrong place and customers knocked it over or stepped in it. He often got lost delivering large purchases to customer's homes. He fell off ladders and misplaced tools and paint brushes. Once he was on a ladder and spilled a can of paint on a particularly nasty customer who had yelled at Ed. Although, that wasn't really an accident.

Charlie liked to tease pretentious customers, especially when Sonya was around. He sometimes stood behind them making faces so Sonya and Ed could see. The customer would turn around and Charlie would be innocently mopping the floor.

One day a young, obviously rich and snooty couple came in the store. They had their arms around each other and made kissy lips to each other constantly. Standing behind them, Charlie picked up the mop with its mop head at the top and danced around with it, as if it were a woman. He faked kissing the mop and dramatically mouthed the words to it, "I love you…marry me!"

Sonya could hardly keep from laughing and she couldn't concentrate on what the couple were saying. Ed tried not to look at Charlie and waited on the couple. When they turned to leave, Charlie climbed a ladder outside the store and adjusted a large paper sign he had been hanging over the door. He "accidentally" let it drop on the woman's head, covering her in the large sign. Sonya could see Charlie through the glass window smiling his toothy grin and putting his fingers over his mouth, laughing.

The snooty woman's companion extricated her and they looked up at Charlie. He was innocently cleaning the window. The man shook his fist at Charlie and the two stomped off angrily.

Charlie rehung the sign then came inside and put the ladder away. Sonya was still laughing and said, "Charlie, you have to stop annoying the customers!"

"Sorry, …couldn't resist." He looked like a naughty kid. He grinned at Sonya. She started to laugh again.

The hardware job was working out well for Charlie, despite his occasional mishaps, which were largely overlooked by Ed because he had really grown rather fond of the little tramp. Charlie tried very hard to do well. He paid Ed a small amount of money to stay in the spare room. He took Sonya out to dinner at least once a week.

Once when Charlie and Sonya went out for dinner, a large lady with a voluminous dress passed by Charlie's chair. She stopped, with her back next to him, talking animatedly to her escort. Her long sleeves kept slapping Charlie in the face as she talked. He slowly stood up, took two of the ice cubes from his soft drink and surreptitiously dropped them down the back of her dress, then sat down quickly and turned his face away. The woman screamed in surprise.

Sonya glanced up; seeing what Charlie had done. Sonya gave him a questioning look. Charlie shrugged his shoulders and looked very innocent.

The lady was still fussing. Charlie took his spoon and filled it with green peas. With perfect aim, he flicked the spoon and it flung its payload of green peas into the lady's impeccably coifed hair. At this point, she was jumping about, making a huge fuss. She still hadn't figured out who her tormentor was.

The large lady's escort took her by the hand and sat her down at the other side of the table, away from Charlie. The lady took her lorgnette and peered at the surrounding tables, trying to locate the guilty party. Charlie was eating quietly, and looking satisfied with himself. Sonya giggled.

"Tha' lady jumpin' about, she mus' 'ave ants in 'er pants…" he commented. At this point, Charlie giggled and smiled and covered his mouth with his hand coyly. Sonya had tears in her eyes from trying to hold back the laughter.

Sonya and Charlie finished their meal. Charlie paid the waiter and, when leaving, made a point of walking behind the large lady's chair. He had taken his cloth napkin with him and he dropped it on her head passing by. It occluded her view and started her screaming and fussing again. Her escort hadn't seen Charlie's slick move and he stopped another man, walking just behind Charlie, and accused him of the evil deed.

Sonya and Charlie left the restaurant quickly. Sonya was still breaking up with laughter. "You're so naughty!" she said. He smiled his toothy grin at her then covered his mouth with his fingers. His eyes were crinkled with laughter and Sonya found that look irresistible.

* * *

Charlie was happy with his job. He found Ed to be a good boss and had a great sense of humor. And Charlie got better at the job too and really put his heart into it. He enjoyed most of the customers and he loved it when Sonya came to visit; he always found occasion to show off a little and Sonya always laughed at his antics.

Charlie saved up some money and bought himself a violin from the pawn shop. He was very much out of practice, but in time, he got very good again. He was sad that Sonya's lovely voice couldn't be heard by the opera audiences where it should have been. But he had an idea. He learned to play the music to several of Sonya's arias by ear, listening to the Victrola. He thought he could accompany her. He wondered…

He brought up the idea of her singing with his violin playing. "That would be fun, Charlie."

"I mean it t' be more than fun, Sonya…I want t' ge' y' t' sing in th' op'ra."

"How are you going to do that, Charlie?"

"I want y' t' get a audition…"

"What do you want me to do, stand outside the opera house and sing in the street?"

He smiled.

"Oh Charlie, that's a ridiculous idea! You can't sing opera in the streets like you were … a minstrel…or something?"

"Who says y' can't?"

"That's not very classy, Charlie!"

"Oh, yer beginnin' t' sound like one o' them lah-dee-dah 'oigh-falutin' lydies now!"

"No, I'm not, but I just couldn't do that…"

"Look, we'd be givin' th' op'ra 'ouse some free publicity, ain't we? An' if we c'n get some of them big shots to 'ear y', why maybe they'd give y' a job!"

"Maybe…or maybe I'll be fired from the job I already have there…"

"Would tha' be th' worst thing in th' world, Sonya?"

"I suppose not, but it's good honest work…"

"Sometimes y' need to step outa th' place where y' feel real com'f'table if y' want t' go somewheres."

"Oh Charlie, you're probably right, but I don't want to do it…"

"Y' wanna sing in the op'ra, don't yer?"

"Yes…"

"'Ow're y' gonna do tha' 'less y' take a chance?"

"So if I lose my job cleaning, are you going to find me another job?"

Charlie smiled and raised his eyebrows looking mischievous. "Yeah, I c'n talk y' Papa into givin' y' a job workin' fer 'im at th' 'ardware store. Tha' way I can be close to y' all the toime!"

She laughed. "If I were there all the time, you wouldn't get any work done. You're always showing off and being silly when I'm there!"

"How d' y' know I ain't clownin' all th' toime when y' ain't there?"

"Pa wouldn't stand for it!"

"Y'd be surprised, Sonya!" The tramp grinned. "So wha' d' y' say, …we go singin', get y' a free audition an' free publicity for the op'ra 'ouse … if they loike y', y' gets th' job. If they do not loike y', y' get foired an' y' c'n t' work wi' me ever' day. But if y' do not try nothin' new, well, y' can still go back to the op'ra 'ouse an' sing fer tramps an' phantoms. Wha' d'y' say?"

"The last time I sang for tramps and phantoms, it didn't turn out too badly," she laughed. "Okay, I'll try your little scheme out!"

The following day, after work, Sonya and Charlie took their musical instruments, he, his violin and she, her voice and stood outside the opera house. It was just before a performance, and Sonya sang arias from the opera being performed that night. Charlie accompanied her, although with her lovely contralto voice, she hardly needed accompaniment.

They had a few people look for a place to throw coins, but Charlie purposely did not leave his hat upturned for coins, as he normally would have; that was not what this was about. When the opera started, Charlie and Sonya left for home. They did the same every night that there were operas and nothing seemed to come of it.

Then one day, Sonya went in to the opera house to do her cleaning and turned on the one stage light. She filled her mop pail and prepared to clean the stage as usual. When she came back to the stage, there was a man sitting in the first row. He was dressed well and looked important. He ran up the steps to the stage.

"Are you Sonya?"

"Yes."

"I'm Mr. Gould. It's my job to audition and hire the members of the opera company."

"Sir?"

"I've been told that you have been heard singing."

"Yes, I do sing…"

"It seems that you have attracted quite a bit of attention with your unauthorized singing outside the theatre."

Sonya didn't say anything. Here it comes…she was going to be fired. Charlie and his weird ideas.

"We can't have you singing outside like that…people will get a free show."

"Sorry, sir, but…"

"But nothing…where did you learn to sing like that?"

"My mother…she was Miranda McGuire…"

"Miranda McGuire! Well, no wonder you can sing …your voice is incredibly like hers!"

"You heard me sing, sir?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I've been listening to you for the last week."

"So, I'm fired from my job cleaning here?"

"Yes, indeed, little lady, I don't want you cleaning on the stage any more."

"Sorry, sir, I'll get my things and go…"

"No, you misunderstand…I don't want you cleaning any more, I want you to understudy our contralto in the opera company…you appear to know all the arias…you will have to learn the acting parts, but that will come. What do you say?"

"I don't know what to say…"

"What about _yes_?"

"Yes!"

"Then it's settled…

You can finish out the week cleaning…I'll hire someone by next week…and next Monday, bright and early, I want to see you in my office…we'll talk salary and then you can meet the rest of the opera company."

"Thank you so much…I am speechless…" said Sonya. She shook his hand.

"I look forward to hearing your exquisite voice, Miss McGuire. And, while I can't stop you from singing anywhere you want to, I would rather you not sing outside the theatre. We had people saying that we had the best singer outside the opera, not inside!"

Sonya smiled.


	6. A Depressing Discovery

Sonya finished her stint mopping and hurried home without even singing today. She was excited. Charlie's weird idea had really paid off… Charlie was rather amazing…she had also been really surprised that he was an excellent violinist…she wondered how many other things the strange little tramp could do.

Charlie was ecstatic when Sonya told him that his little scheme worked and she had gotten a job with the opera company.

Now that he had some money, Charlie bought himself a nice evening coat with tails similar to the one he had borrowed from the opera company's costumes when he had inadvertently become the "Phantom." He needed the clothes if he were to come to the opera to listen to Sonya. Sonya painstakingly explained in detail the stories of each opera that Charlie would see so he knew what was going on.

Charlie came by after the operas to escort Sonya home, whether he had seen the opera or not. She felt very safe walking with him at night.

The only bad news for Sonya was that she didn't get to sing in the performances much because she was only the understudy. The only time Sonya actually would be able to sing on stage would be when the contralto became ill or unavailable. However, when she did sing, she got standing ovations, which made the contralto, Martina, a French diva, rather jealous. She wasn't nice to Sonya and did everything she could to sabotage the girl.

Sonya wasn't happy about that and confided in Charlie. She told him that Mr. Gould had even said that when she was singing outside he had thought she had a better voice than Martina. Somehow that information must have gotten back to the French woman.

* * *

One day, Sonya realized that she was falling in love with the tenor's understudy. She and Edmund had been thrown together many times while watching the performances, ready to take over, should they be needed. Sonya had heard Edmund sing, and she was entranced by his voice, as the tramp had been by hers.

Edmund was kind and wonderful, but he was also tall, handsome, blond and young. Every time she heard him sing and every time she talked to him, yes, every time she saw him or thought about him, she fell more in love with him. She felt guilty, because Charlie still considered her "his" girl. She didn't know how to break the news to him. She really loved Charlie too, but not romantically like Edmund. Even though she had spent a lot of time with Charlie, they had kissed and embraced, it wasn't the same. She loved Charlie's clowning, his smile, his accent and his soft voice. She loved his expressive blue eyes, his dark curly hair and his sensitive hands. She loved his violin playing. In fact she loved almost everything about him. But she loved Edmund for himself. Charlie made her laugh and feel good, but Edmund swept her off her feet. Charlie had wild, interesting ideas, but Edmund had stolen her heart.

Sonya introduced Edmund to Charlie after one of the operas was over when Charlie had been waiting to take Sonya home.

Sonya hadn't told Charlie about her feelings for Edmund, but Charlie knew. He could feel it in the difference when he kissed Sonya. He knew it when he saw a glance pass between Edmund and Sonya that was more than a glance. He was sad, but he didn't say anything. He hoped he was wrong in his assessment, but he knew he wasn't. This had happened before, too many times for Charlie not to recognize the truth. But he still didn't say a word about it. He tried to act the same as before, as if nothing had happened.

Sonya decided she had to tell Charlie. They were sitting in the porch swing one evening when Sonya said,

"I love singing so much …I wish Martina didn't dislike me."

"She sees that y' 'ave a bet'ter voice, ducks…she's jealous."

"Probably. Charlie, what do you think about Edmund? I think his voice is better than Raoul's." Raoul was the tenor.

"Yeah. He's sings very well. Better than Raoul." He looked at Sonya and smiled. "Better than me, too."

"What do you mean, Charlie. You haven't sung in the opera…or did you do that sometime in the past…you continually amaze me with all your accomplishments…and you say you're just a tramp!"

"Ain't wha' I meant, ducks. I know yer in love wi' Edmund. It's a'roigh'."

"Charlie, how did you know?" She was relieved that she didn't have to say it, but dismayed that Charlie already knew. She didn't know it was that obvious. He was pretty observant.

"Written on yer face. I'm 'appy fer y', Sonya. Glad y' found a man yer in love wi'. I was jus' bein' a dreamer, always 'ave been."

"Charlie, I really do love you…it's just that…"

"I know, y' love me, bu' yer _in love_ wi' Edmund. That's foine, Sonya…tole y' b'fore."

"Charlie, you're so sweet…you make me feel good and bad at the same time."

"Wha' d' y' mean, ducks?"

"Good that you're so understanding and bad that…I just hurt you…I don't mean to…"

Charlie hugged her comfortingly. "I know y' don't, Sonya. Now dry them tears. No sense sheddin' no tears fer ol' Charlie."

Sonya was sobbing now, holding on to the tramp and crying on his shoulder. He stroked her back gently.

"Y' stop weepin' right now, me lydy, I do not want y' t' ruin y' lovely voice! Tha's a order!"

She started to laugh through her tears and blew her nose. "Charlie, you'll still stay on as our boarder, won't you?"

"Yeah. It's a good job; workin' fer Eddy."

She laughed again. "Why he lets you get away with calling him Eddy, I don't know!"

"I ge' away wi' a lotta things in me day, Sonya,… y' know, y' must think a lit' tle dif' frent from other folk…"

"You're right…" she looked at him and smiled. "You're always right."

"No…no' always, Sonya. I 'ad me plenty o' bad ideas…y' just seen me good 'uns."


	7. A Terrible Crime

In the days and weeks ensuing, although Charlie felt dejected over the knowledge that Sonya loved Edmund, still he wished the best for her and decided to make friends with Edmund. He hoped the man was worthy of Sonya, as he had often felt himself not to be.

The two got along well and Charlie never gave Edmund anything to be jealous about. Charlie, Edmund, Papa Ed and Sonya often got together for picnics, sports, games, outings and dinners. They all had music in common, even Papa Ed, who through his late wife had come to appreciate opera and even had a pleasing baritone voice. Papa Ed and Charlie often played and sang folk songs, Ed on the banjo and Charlie on the fiddle. When Papa Ed played the piano and Charlie played the violin, Edmund and Sonya sang duets, the music was beautiful enough to make one weep.

* * *

One day, attending the opera company's meeting, Mr. Gould announced that Martina was quite ill with throat distress and a fever and that Sonya would be singing for the next few days. Of course not wishing ill upon Martina, Sonya still was happy that she would be able to sing for a few days. She hoped Martina would take very good care of herself and stay away for quite a while.

Sonya sang with Raoul for several days, then Edmund was asked to fill in when Raoul was suddenly called away. Sonya was overjoyed at the chance to sing on stage with her beau. That night the music was wonderful and the audience was enthralled. Charlie was attending the opera that evening to hear Sonya sing.

Sonya, after her aria, left the stage during the intermission. Edmund had already left the stage a bit earlier. She went down to find him in the basement lounge. She came in the room - it was a long room with tables and chairs and it was bereft of people, except for Charlie, who was bending over, looking at something on the floor. She thought it odd that Charlie was down here in the lounge. Because of the tables, she couldn't see what he was looking at. She came in, thinking to wait for Edmund, and walked over to Charlie to greet him

"Charlie?" she said.

He looked up startled and almost jumped at the sound of her voice. He had a frightened look in his eyes. She ran over to him. He was holding a bloody knife in his left hand and standing over Edmund, who appeared to be dead. Edmund's white vest was stained with blood as were Charlie's hands.

Sonya screamed, a sound she couldn't stop. Then her words came out in the same scream, "Charlie, how could you?" She ran out of the room, still screaming.

By this time, even the audience had heard Sonya's screams. She ran backstage and, still screaming, told the other actors what happened. Then she fainted.

Several of the male actors and orchestra members ran down to the lounge. Edmund was still there on the floor, as was the bloody knife, but there was no sign of the tramp.

The opera was cancelled and the police were called. The police kept the audience, all the cast members and orchestra in the building and they were told to stay for questioning.

Sonya couldn't believe that sweet, gentle Charlie had killed Edmund. She hadn't thought he could hurt anyone. But thinking about it, she realized that there were many things about the tramp that she didn't know. And now he had killed Edmund out of jealousy. He had told her once that he had spent time in jail. Maybe he really meant prison. She wondered what other horrendous crimes he might have committed. That was probably why he was a tramp, running from the law. After all, that's what he was doing the first time she saw him…

After a gruelling session with the police, Sonya went home with a police escort. She didn't want to meet Charlie on the lam. He might be dangerous. She told her father what happened and wept inconsolably.

* * *

As Sonya ran out of the lounge screaming, Charlie dropped the knife with a clatter and wiped his hands on his white vest without thinking. He was very shaken. He ran out of the room, knowing he had to get out of the theatre without being seen. He ran in the costume room, pulled his street clothes off their hanger and remembering the secret passageways, pushed the button and the hidden panel opened into the darkness.

As the door closed behind him, Charlie ran, without thinking or looking where he was. He went down flight upon flight of steps illuminated only by dim lights here and there. Finally he found himself in a cold dank lower basement. There was no light in the cellar, and he had to walk carefully. He was safe here for the moment. He changed his clothes in the dark, and not knowing what to do with his formal evening clothes, folded them carefully and put them on the stone floor, in a corner.

Charlie wasn't sure where he was exactly. It was cold and the dampness permeated his bones. He shivered, not only from the chill, but from the sight that lingered in his mind of Edmund, lifeless on the floor. He lit a match and found a torch set in a holder on the wall. He lit the torch and then he could see his surroundings. The cellar was made of stone and brick, with a doorway and stairs leading upward.

The little tramp looked up the stairs to the darkness above and thought that must lead up into the theatre again, or maybe to the street. He didn't want to go that way right now. They would be looking for him. He took the torch and walked around a corner. This passageway seemed to go lower and lower. Soon he noticed the floor was wet. As the corridor went down, the water rose. It was dank, filthy water. He heard noises and supposed he was disturbing the rats by his passage through their territory. The corridor belonged to the spiders too, dusty webs reached down, almost as far as his head.

The water became muddier and it was almost up to the tops of his shoes when he came to a thick metal door. Locked with a bar across it on the inside, it still let in a lot of water, where the floor had eroded under it. Charlie had a hard time getting the rusty bar to move, but he finally was able to push it upward and opened the metal door.

The passageway continued for a bit, but there was no door at the other end of it; he could see moonlight and vegetation. Charlie doused the torch in the water and left it in the corridor. He emerged from the end of the corridor to the edge of the river. The moonlight played on the water and Charlie looked back. He couldn't even see the theatre. It must be quite a distance away.

Charlie looked for a way to get as far away from the opera house as possible. He started walking along the water. A row boat was tied up a short way down the river, under a bridge. He walked down the steps to the pier and commandeered the small boat. He rowed down the river, away from the city.

* * *

The police were on the lookout for Charlie. Sonya had given a description of the tramp and they had started a dragnet around the opera house. After hours of searching, they still couldn't find the elusive little man. They extended the search further out into the city.

* * *

Sonya was so upset over the loss of her Edmund, that she became despondent and took to her bed. She was inconsolable and her father was at his wit's end as to what to do for her. A doctor was called who said that only time could heal the girl.


	8. On the Run

The tramp, chilled to the bone, had left the river area and walked further inland where he found the rail road yards. The tracks led in all directions. He walked along the tracks for hours that night, hoping he had evaded the police. He found a small wooden shed and curled up inside it for shelter from the wind.

He awoke the next morning, the chill and dampness permeating every part of his body, making his joints ache. He took off his shoes and inspected his feet. He had no socks on and his feet were so cold he could barely feel his toes. He rubbed them with his hands until they felt better.

The tramp knew he had to eat something and get out of the cold. He didn't want to risk stealing any food, for fear he would be caught for the larger crime. He checked his pockets and he still had money with him from cashing his last pay check. He decided to chance the diner.

Charlie ordered some food and ate quietly without garnering any attention. As he was paying for his meal, he glanced up behind the cashier. There were several "Wanted" posters up on the wall. One of them said, "Wanted for Murder." It sported a small drawing of himself, not a very good likeness, and a description. He was surprised that the poster had been distributed so fast. It must have gone out with the newspapers. He hoped none of the waitresses would recognize or remember him. He left without incident.

Seeing those wanted posters, Charlie knew he had to get far away, maybe even out of the state. He started walking and near evening he came upon another rail yard and decided to hop a freight. Jumping into a boxcar, he sat down in a dark corner and closed his eyes. He was out of the wind and it was a bit warmer.

Finally the train started to move and Charlie relaxed and fell asleep, exhausted from the stress. He was still sleeping soundly when the train stopped and the rail police, called "bulls" in hobo terminology, checked the empty cars.

Charlie heard a voice, "We got one here!" Charlie was pulled to his feet unceremoniously by his coat collar.

"All right, pal, your little ride is over; start walking!" Charlie thought, I guess this is it. Well, I tried.

The tramp was put in jail, but he found out the charges were for vagrancy and illegally riding the rails. No one said anything about murder and Charlie didn't either.

Charlie was let out after three months. He waited to pick up his "valuables": his pocket watch and knife, his hat, walking stick and his meagre bit of money. The man in charge of the "valuables" that the prisoners had to leave when they arrived went into the back to retrieve his items. The man put them on the desk, then said, "Wait a minute!" He was reading something. The man looked at Charlie, then back at the paper several times.

"Hey, you look an awful lot like this drawing…you fit the description, too!"

Charlie looked at his wanted poster as if he hadn't ever seen it before. "No, that ain't me…don't look a thing like me." He handed the poster back to the man.

"Says here this fella often wears a black derby hat and carries a cane…I just handed you them things…"

"So? Lotta people wear hats and carry walkin' sticks," said Charlie, trying to act innocent.

"Says that he's a small fella, pale skin with a moustache."

"I ain't that small…"

"Yeah, but you have a moustache…"

"Lotta men do…y' y'self wears one…and y'self is pretty small too, mister, why that could be talkin' 'bout y'."

"S'pose so… Wait, this yer name? It must be; yer things was under that name…"

"That's just me alias."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense now."

Charlie tipped his hat and smiled. "'Ope I won't be seein' y' soon, no disrespec' intended…" He exited the jail and knew he had to leave the environs quickly before the not-too-bright jail attendant thought too hard about the poster.

The weather had turned very cold in the time Charlie had spent in jail and he knew he couldn't sleep outside in this kind of cold. And he knew he had to get away from the area since his wanted poster had followed him here.

He walked to the mission where they provided meals for the needy and had a warm meal, staying out of the cold for at least an hour. He asked if they had any donated clothing. The woman smiled and found some things for him: a wool neck scarf, some warm socks, and best of all an old, but still usable overcoat. He thanked her profusely. Wearing the overcoat, he felt much better and by the time evening fell, he found a place where he could rent a bed for a night. He went to bed and thought about what his next move would be.

* * *

Sonya had been unable to sing since the night Edmund had been killed. She took to her bed for some time, but with her father's encouragement, some help from the doctor, and time, the eternal healer, she gradually got better. The doctor, not really knowing what name to put on her illness, called it melancholy.

Once Sonya began to recover, she also became determined that Edmund's killer must be caught. It was now three months since the terrible event and Sonya couldn't get the picture of Charlie with the bloody knife in his hand out of her mind.

The thought of doing something constructive to avenge Edmund's death gave Sonya new energy. She went to the police station one day to talk to the detective assigned to the case.

Detective Will Johnson was a large, kind, sympathetic man who reminded Sonya of her father. She told him everything she knew about Charlie. The detective told her he would renew his efforts to find the tramp, but that someone like Charlie, living on the edge of society, would be hard to find. However, if anyone could find him, Johnson would.

* * *

The following day, Charlie had started walking along the side of the highway in his attempt to get further away, as far from the scene of his crime as possible. It was cold but the sun was shining and the overcoat made a dramatic difference. He didn't want to hop a train for fear of being picked up again and this time perhaps recognized. So he thought he would hitch-hike.

He was picked up by a man driving a large truck, hauling cargo to the next state. The man was friendly and wanted to talk. Charlie felt it better that he didn't say much and he gave mostly one word answers. The man turned on the radio and they were regaled by some very nice popular music.

Then there was an announcement that stated: _Three months after the event, the police have renewed their efforts to find the killer of Edmund Eddington. Miss Sonya McGuire, the operatic tenor's fiancé, has put out a plea to anyone seeing the man suspected of being responsible for this murder or with any information to immediately report it to Detective Will Johnson. The announcer then gave the address and phone. The voice went on: His description: small frame, 5 foot 6 inches, 135 pounds, pale skin, blue eyes, black curly hair and moustache. He has an odd gait and a foreign __accent. Last seen wearing a black derby hat and carrying a bamboo cane. Remember, this man looks harmless, but he is a murder suspect. Do not take any chances…he is dangerous and may be __armed._

Charlie closed his eyes and thought, _A'roigh',__ I'm in fer it now…_

The truck driver kept peering at Charlie while the announcement was on the radio. "Did you do it?" he asked.

"If I say no, would y' even b' lieve me?"

"Are you armed and dangerous?"

"Well, I'ave me pocket knoife…as fer dangerous, I never though o' meself as dangerous…"

The truck driver laughed. He didn't feel in any particular peril with Charlie in his truck. He was a lot bigger than Charlie and able to take care of himself. He didn't think that Charlie was armed even before he asked the question. The tramp didn't at all look like a murderer, but of course what does a murderer look like? He didn't ask any more questions. They drove all day, then he let Charlie out at the next town and wished him luck.

Charlie walked down the main street of the town, hoping he would find work. At this point he desperately needed to make some money and find a place to stay out of the cold. During the summer, he had the luxury of being able to sleep outside if he couldn't find work, but now the winter was fast approaching. Even as he thought about winter, the dusk was upon him and he saw a few snowflakes begin to fall.

Charlie pulled his coat about his face and turned the collar up against the wind. He saw some lights up ahead and as he came closer, he saw it was a diner. There was a sign in the window looking for a cook/waiter for the day shift. Charlie knew he could do that, so he went inside and asked about the job. He was hired on the spot and was asked if he could start tomorrow. He agreed. He bought some supper for himself then found a room in a dilapidated hotel in town with his last bit of money.

Early the next morning, Charlie arrived again at the diner. He met the waitress, Carol, the daughter of the man who owned the diner. She was a tall, loud, gum-chewing woman with red hair. She smoked and was a little rough around the edges, probably from dealing with the clientele, but she wasn't a bad sort. Loud, out-spoken Carol was an interesting contrast to shy, polite, soft-spoken Charlie. He liked her right away, for although she was tactless sometimes, she was sincere.

Charlie fit in well with the diner and its clientèle from the edges of society. Homeless, drunks, tramps, hoboes and ex-cons frequented the place, in addition to those with very little money and down on their luck and some that were doing all right like the truck drivers who passed through constantly. Charlie had experience dealing with uncooperative customers. Everything was going well for the tramp and he relaxed and started to enjoy life again, even though he was always looking over his shoulder.

He got along well with Carol. Often on their breaks, they would sit and talk and smoke together. Carol chided Charlie about smoking his little cigarette butts and asked him why he didn't buy a "new" pack. He said he always had enough smokes with the little stubs he found and they were free. She would elbow him and say, "Honey, you have to learn to splurge on yourself a little sometimes!" He would just smile and give her a friendly kiss.

One day, about six months after he started, Carol came in the kitchen snapping her gum as usual. "Hey, Charlie, there's a customer out front wants to ask you something." Charlie nodded, wiped his hands and pushed open the swinging kitchen door. Carol pointed to one of the booths.

Charlie went over to the customer, who was a woman wearing a large hat that occluded her face. "May I 'elp y'? he asked.

She turned her face up to him…it was Sonya. Charlie, startled, backed away. "Oh, no you don't!" she whispered, as she grabbed his apron and pulled him back. "Sit down," she hissed, indicating the seat across from her.

"You won't get away this time, Charlie!"

"Sonya! I…."

"Charlie, how could you!" she interrupted. Sonya had tears in her eyes. "Even if you were jealous, murdering him…" She looked over at him with vengeance in her eyes. "Well, you won't get away with it this time, you filthy little tramp!"

Charlie didn't say anything. He was surprised at Sonya's venom. She seemed a different person than the girl he had been in love with. She looked thin and wan. Her angry expression took away from the beauty of her face.

Charlie felt nothing at the moment. He supposed she would come back with the police, so he would have to be gone when that happened. He started to get up and walk away. She grabbed his gartered shirt sleeve and pulled him back, trying to get him to sit down again. She looked very angry.

Charlie shook her hand off his arm and pushed her away. Carol came over and stood with her hands on her hips. She looked at Charlie. "Woman troubles, honey? Need some help?"

Charlie shook his head. Carol backed off but she kept an eye on the two, leaning on her elbows behind the counter, smacking her gum. Charlie sat down again. "What d' y' want, Sonya?"

"I have Police Detective Johnson outside in the car. See?" She pointed to an unmarked auto mobile parked in front of the diner. "I want you in police custody. I want you to go to trial for murdering Edmund and I want you found guilty. I want you to pay for your crime!" She had raised her voice and was crying in rage and anger. Several customers were looking at the two in curiosity.

"I didn't know Edmund asked y' to marry him, not till I 'eard it on the radio…I'm so sorry…A'roigh', Sonya. Ye win. I'll give meself up. Now wha'?"

Sonya motioned through the plate glass window to Detective Johnson in the car outside. When Charlie saw the man begin to get out of the car and come toward the diner, he panicked. He ran from the booth, jumped over the counter and ran in back to the men's wash room. He pushed open the window and crawled out. He started running and was soon out of sight.

Detective Johnson came in the door and saw Sonya but no Charlie. "He got away again!" She pointed in the direction Charlie had gone. Johnson started to go around the counter and into the kitchen. Carol put a hand up barring the way. "Where are you going, Mister?"

He pulled out his badge. "Lady, this is police business. Get out of my way."

"You still can't go in the kitchen," said Carol. He went in anyway. Carol smiled. She thought probably Charlie had enough time to get away.

Johnson couldn't find Charlie and Sonya was angry and frustrated. She knew the little tramp was slippery and elusive. She had had her hands on him! They left the diner and Johnson continued his search in the area.

A few hours later, Charlie came back to the diner through the rear entrance. There was only one customer, so Charlie said, "Psssst!" to get Carol's attention. She looked around and he had his finger to his lips signalling silence. He beckoned to her. She came into the kitchen.

"Charlie, what was that all about before? You left me alone here to cook and wait on tables!"

"Sorry, Miss Carol, it couldn't be 'elped. Can we sit down fer a minute? I gotta explain."

"Sure, Charlie."

"Them people 're after me fer a crime I didn't commit."

"What crime?"

"They say I murdered a opera singer, Edmund Eddington. He was the girl's fiancé…I was friends wi' both o' them…I 'ad come to see 'er, Sonya, sing in the opera. Both o' them was singin' opera tha' noigh'. During intermission, one o' th' ushers 'ands me a note sayin' Edmund wants to talk to me in th' lounge. So I go down there. He ain't there.. Bu' foinally, when I do find 'im, I was stunned….he was layin' on th' floor dead, a bloody knoife at 'is soide. I was so shocked, I pick'd up the knoife fer some reason an' tha's 'ow Sonya found me, standin' over Edmund wi' th' bloody murder weapon in me 'and."

Charlie mentioned that he liked Edmund and he would never hurt him or anyone else, least of all commit murder. He related the rest of the story as to how he came to work at the diner.

Carol snapped her gum noisily. "Well, that is some story, Charlie. Yeah, I heard about that crime. Never thought you were involved."

"Do y' b'lieve me?"

She studied his face, thinking out loud. "Maybe. You got an honest face. You always been honest and trustworthy here in the diner. 'Course that don't mean you ain't committed no crime, but you never gave me no trouble…what're you going to do?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "I came back to get me clothes." Charlie took off the apron he still had on from earlier, put on his hat and jacket and picked up his walking stick.

"Thanks fer ever'thing, Miss Carol." He gave her a kiss and then was on his way. He walked over to the police station and asked how he could get in touch with a certain Detective Will Johnson from the other jurisdiction.

The desk sergeant pointed Charlie to an office. Charlie knocked and opened the door. A police detective looked up from his desk. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" Charlie asked, politely. The detective waved him in and indicated a chair in front of his desk. Charlie removed his hat and sat down.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm wantin' t' foind Detective Will Johnson. I came to give meself up."

The detective frowned. "And you are….?"

Charlie gave his name.

"The opera murder," said the detective. He handed Charlie a piece of paper to write on. "Give me your statement about what happened. We'll contact Johnson…I know him personally…I know he's assigned to the case…"

The detective read the statement and said, "Did you contact your lawyer yet?"

"Can't afford no lawyer, sir."

"I have to put you in cuffs and take you over to the jail, Charlie." Charlie nodded.


	9. Trial Preparations

After the arraignment, Charlie had been in jail several weeks, not being able to come up with bail. One day he was told he had a visitor. He was taken to the visiting room. He was surprised to see Ed McGuire, Sonya's father, waiting for him. He expected a verbal lashing and he braced himself for it.

Ed stood up when Charlie was brought in. He shook Charlie's hand heartily. "Good to see you, son," he said.

Charlie was confused. "Sonya…"

"Sonya thinks you did the crime. Well, did you do it Charlie?"

"No, I did not. That's th' absolute truth."

"I believe you. I know you, Charlie…I'm as sure that you didn't do it as I am that I didn't do it."

"Thank y' fer tha', Ed. I appreciate tha'. But if I did not do the crime, who did?"

"That's what we have to find out. Charlie, I'm going to stick my neck out for you. I'm hiring a lawyer, a friend of mine, to defend you and I think he will be able to find out the truth. He has a detective working for him that will be looking into the case for you."

Charlie was astounded at his kindness. "I don't know 'ow I could pay y' back, Ed…"

"Don't worry about that, son. Jim is a good friend of mine and he is going to defend you pro bono."

"What's 'pro bono' mean, Ed?"

"He's not going to charge anything for his services. And he's a very good lawyer…the best. So Charlie, tell me exactly what happened."

Charlie related the story of that awful evening. "I shoulda stayed about tha' noigh' to tell me soide o' th' story, Ed, bu' I got scared an' ran."

"I probably would have done the same, Charlie, my boy, don't think a thing about it. We're going to get you cleared of this."

"Wha' about Sonya? Wha' she gonna say when she finds out yer 'elpin me?"

"She's not going to find out, Charlie. At least not right away."

"Is she doin' a'roigh'?"

"She's still so angry she can't think about any other scenario except what she thought she saw. Edmund was viciously stolen away from her and it broke her heart, especially because she thinks that you did it. She had a real soft spot in her heart for you, Charlie. You know, my daughter had some emotional instability issues a few years back. This just sent her over the edge again. So, in a way, my helping you is somewhat selfish. I want to clear you so Sonya gets over her anger and gets on with life again. I want my daughter back."

"Yeah. She didn't seem the same lady when I seen her few weeks back…she's so angry, she's turn ugly." He looked up at Ed. "Didn't mean no offence at yer daughter, Ed."

"I know, son. I agree."

Charlie smiled. "By th' way, I oughta confess to a bit o' fibbin' I been doin' to y'…"

"Oh?"

"I ain't thirty years old."

Ed laughed. "So how old are you, son, thirty-two?"

"No…forty-eight now. Y' been callin' me son an' it seem strange, seein' as I'm older than y'self. Sonya tole me yer age."

Ed started to laugh till tears came into his eyes. "Well, I still think of you as younger, you have so much life and fun in you…"

"Visiting time is over!" announced the guard. Charlie shook Ed's hand and thanked him again.

* * *

It was several days later when a tall thin man came to see Charlie in his cell. "I'm Seamus O'Hara, your lawyer. Jim for short. I believe Ed McGuire told you I was coming?"

Charlie nodded and smiled. He shook the man's hand and waved him to sit in the chair. Charlie sat on the edge of the bed. The lawyer appeared to be about forty years old and had sandy hair, parted in the middle and slicked down with hair tonic. He wore a brown conservative suit. His hazel eyes were friendly. He spoke with a slight Irish brogue.

"You'll have to tell me your story again, Charlie."

Charlie repeated the story. "I'll be having me detective go over the crime scene with a fine toothed comb. If there's anything more to be found, Tom will find it."

"Thank y' so much," said Charlie.

* * *

Tom McShane was an excellent detective and he employed all the latest innovations in crime investigations that were available in the mid 1930's. He was often able to pick up details not evident to others.

McShane felt the murderer unlikely to be an outsider, in other words, a member of the audience, or someone who had wandered in off the street. Charlie was still on his list of suspects, for although not a member of the opera company or the orchestra, he was familiar with the opera theatre and close friends with two members of the company.

McShane gathered the fingerprints of all the company and orchestra. He studied the photos that were taken of the deceased. He carefully went over the floor and walls for any signs of blood which had been overlooked by the cleaning crew. He took the note that had been written to Charlie. Oddly enough, there was a note also found on Edmund's body, showing that Edmund would have been unlikely to have typed the note asking Charlie to meet him. Having been written on a typewriter except for the signatures, he studied the typewriters owned by the opera company, knowing that each typewriter's printing was as unique as a set of fingerprints.


	10. The Evidence Mounts

The trial date finally arrived. Defence Attorney O'Hara was up against District Attorney Max Walsh, the toughest and smartest DA in the state. The trial was held in the city where the crime had taken place.

The whole situation was rather overwhelming to Charlie, who had been in court only for petty crimes, usually something he had really done and he would plead guilty, receive his sentence and serve his time. But this time, there was a jury and O'Hara had told him that the trial could be lengthy. In the next few weeks, the following statements and witnesses were heard in the courtroom:

Walsh began his opening statement by painting Charlie as a habitually homeless man, without ties (and implying without morals) who with malice and aforethought, wilfully and deliberately did commit murder in the first degree. He stated that he intended to show that the motive was jealousy of the relationship between his former girlfriend, Sonya McGuire and the decedent, Edmund Eddington. He averred that state's evidence would prove his case against the tramp.

O'Hara's opening statement showed Charlie in a different light, a man who had tried to be a responsible citizen, holding down a job, when he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He said he would prove that there was a friendship without jealousy between Edmund and Charlie, and that Charlie's moral character would be testified to by witnesses. And evidence would prove Charlie innocent.

The prosecution called their witnesses.

Sonya McGuire stated that she had seen the defendant bending over the decedent holding the bloody knife in his hand. She gave a recap of her actions that night. She gave witness to Charlie's character, stating that the day she had met him, he had been running from the police. She also spoke about his skills as a pickpocket.

Detective Will Johnson described the dragnet that had been put out for Charlie and how he had eluded the police for nine months.

The police officers who investigated the crime scene showed photos of the decedent's wounds and stated that the knife found next to the body was indeed the murder weapon. As they were showing the enlarged photos of the decedent's wounds, Sonya left the courtroom in tears. Also entered into state's evidence were the evening clothes Charlie had been wearing that night. They were found in the sub basement of the theatre, folded in a corner of the damp cellar. The vest had blood stains on it, looking as if it a bloody hand had been wiped on it. The murder weapon also had Charlie's fingerprints on it. Both the blood on the vest and the murder weapon were the same blood type as Edmund Eddington's.

Members of the opera company and orchestra testified as to the good character of both Sonya and the decedent. They also said that before Edmund came into the picture, Charlie had been Sonya's beau.

District Attorney Walsh called his witness Raoul Thibaut.

Raoul Thibaut, the tenor, a very tall man, looked to be in his early thirties. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He stated that he did not know Charlie except by sight, and that whenever he had seen Charlie, Charlie had always seemed totally focused on Sonya to the exclusion of everyone and everything else.

Raoul was then cross-examined by Attorney O'Hara.

"M. Thibaut, if you would be so kind, please sign your name on this card." He handed him a blank index card. The tenor signed it and handed it back. He handed Raoul another blank card and a scissors.

"Objection," said DA Walsh. "Is there any relevance to this?"

"Mr. O'Hara?" asked the judge.

"I am laying a foundation that will be used later."

"Overruled. But, please stick to the subject, Mr. O'Hara."

"Yes, Your Honour. Now, if the court will indulge me a bit longer, M. Thibaut, please cut this second card in half." The tenor gave O'Hara a strange look, but took the scissors and cut the card in half.

"M. Thibaut, may I assume you are right-handed?"

"Oui, Monsieur."

"And how tall are you?"

"I am six feet and two inches."

"Thank you, M. Thibaut."

Martina was called next by the prosecution.

Martina Soubrette, the contralto, a tall, slim dark-haired woman about thirty years old, was dressed in a mauve suit and a large matching hat with flowers. She wore pearls around her neck. Her hands were enclosed in a pair of light mauve gloves, showing off her long slim fingers. She ascended the witness stand in a stately manner.

Martina stated that Sonya had a good reputation with the company, but that Charlie had been seen sneaking about in places in the theatre in which he had no business being, thus proving that he knew his way around the opera house.

O'Hara cross-examined the contralto.

"Mlle. Soubrette, I would ask you to do the same thing that I asked of M. Thibaut. Please sign your name on the first card, then take the scissors and cut the second card in half."

The contralto complied.

"Would you say you are right or left-handed?"

"I am right-handed, Monsieur."

"Then tell us, Mlle. Soubrette, how tall are you?"

"I am five foot and ten inches," she answered.

The defence then called their witnesses.

Ed McGuire testified as to Charlie's character while working in the hardware store. He stated that Charlie was completely honest and trustworthy, did a good job at the store and had stayed at his home for about six months without incident. In fact, he had become a friend. Charlie had good relations with the customers outside of a little teasing and clowning, but never emotional outbursts or anger.

Ed glanced at his daughter Sonya, sitting next to the defence attorney. Her face was reddened and she looked angry. She wouldn't even glance over at her father.

Carol the waitress stated that Charlie was cooperative and trustworthy at the diner, completely honest and never gave cause to be disciplined. He never got angry with uncooperative customers or anyone else, and was not prone to emotional outbursts.

The usher who handed Charlie the note stated that the note, in an envelope addressed to Charlie, had been found in his own jacket pocket before the performance. The envelope gave instructions to give it to Charlie at intermission. Because he knew who Charlie was and where he was sitting, the usher delivered it to him.

Charlie had told Attorney O'Hara that he wanted to testify and so he was called next. Charlie related again the story of that terrible night and stated unequivocally that he was innocent. He told why he had run and what had ensued in the next few months. He stated that he had turned himself in, albeit, nine months after the crime had been committed.

O'Hara went through the same card signing and cutting with Charlie as he had with Martina and Raoul.

"Tell me, are you right or left handed?"

"Left-handed, sir."

"And how tall are you?"

"Five foot six, sir."

DA Max Walsh cross-examined Charlie.

"Your finger prints are on the murder weapon. How do you account for that."

"I picked it up, sir."

"Why did you do that?"

"I dunno…I just did."

"How do you account for the blood on your clothes, the white waistcoat found in the cellar?"

"I wiped me 'ands off on me clothes. I did it wit'out thinkin, after I touched the knoife. Then I lef' the evenin' clothes in the cellar, after changin' into me street clothes. I did not want to take them wi' me…"

"Why did you run from the law?"

"I was scared."

"Why were you scared if you hadn't committed the crime?"

"I been in gaol before…scared o' the police." After Charlie said that, he was sorry…it hadn't sounded good.

"So, what was your reaction to seeing Eddington laying on the lounge floor?" asked Walsh.

"Shock. I was shocked. I didn't know wha' t' do."

"So you just stood there wondering what to do? Why didn't you get help or call the police like a responsible citizen?"

O'Hara stood up. "Objection. Badgering the witness."

"Sustained," said the judge.

"I'll put this another way. Did you know he was dead?"

"Yes. I seen dead b'fore."

"Did you check to find out if he was breathing or had a pulse?

"No….I just knowed 'e was dead. Just by the look of 'im."

"Are you a doctor or medical practitioner, that you can tell if someone is deceased without examining them?"

"It just 'appen'd so fast…"

"Objection. Badgering the witness again," said O'Hara.

"Overruled. The witness will answer the question."

"No, I ain't no doctor."

"That's all the questions I have for this witness," said Walsh.

"The witness may stand down," said the judge and Charlie took his seat.

O'Hara called his detective next.

Charlie's note and also the one found on Edmund had been entered into evidence. Detective Tom McShane showed enlarged photographic blowups of the notes showing how the two notes were actually written on the same typewriter. The notes were identical except for the handwritten signatures. The notes both read: _Please meet me in the lounge during intermission. I have something important to ask you about Sonya._ The signature on one was "Charlie" and the other "Edmund." He had samples of Charlie's handwriting and also Edmund's and showed that the real signatures were quite different from that on the notes. He pointed out his conclusion that the notes were typed on a typewriter that was located in the theatre's office and that the notes were signed by the same hand, unknown at this time.

Detective McShane went on to show the court several things about the photos of Edmund's wounds. He had a diagram of a body and the wounds were marked on the frontal and dorsal sides. He stated that the height of Edmund Eddington was six foot one. By the placement of the wounds, the one on the back was the first one inflicted, by someone embracing Edmund, but not having a lot of strength in their hand. It was on the left side of Edmund's body, and was at an angle showing that the person would have to be right handed. This was not the blow that killed Edmund, but it was the one inflicted by the knife found next to him.

McShane pointed out three other wounds in the decedent's chest, any one of which could have killed him. Apparently, the first blow was on his back, by someone embracing him. As he fell to the floor from the pain, another knife was used to stab him from the front, three times. McShane showed the difference in the size and shape of the wounds, indicating two knives. Why would a murderer use two knives, unless there were two murderers and the second knife had not as yet been found.

Another point was the height of the murderer. While the frontal wounds, being inflicted when the decedent was laying prone, did not tell anything about the height of the murderer, the dorsal wound did. It was calculated that the person inflicting the first wound have had to be between five foot eight and five foot eleven. And again, the frontal wounds were inflicted by a right-handed person with considerable strength.


	11. Victory

One day, just before the court broke for lunch, Detective McShane rushed in with an object. He consulted with O'Hara who asked the judge if he could approach. O'Hara and Walsh approached the bench and O'Hara stated his detective had found another piece of evidence. It was another bloody knife, this one wider and longer. The bloody prints on the white ivory handle were quite clear.

That afternoon, O'Hara called Martina Soubrette back to the stand as a hostile witness.

"I will state to the court now that my intention, in having several witnesses, in court, write their names on index cards, was to find out their preferred handedness. However, simply writing is not a totally accurate way of finding out this information. Many left-handed children are encouraged by their parents to use the right hand to write, as it is more acceptable in Europe and America to write and eat with the right hand. Therefore, another test was needed; that is why the witnesses were asked to cut a card. Then the third test was which hand they took the cards and the scissors from you.

"Our results showed that the defendant is left-handed and the witnesses M. Thibaut and Mlle. Soubrette are right-handed."

O'Hara then turned to Martina and addressed her. "Mlle, Soubrette, we have, in addition to your signature from court, a previous signature from your hand. There was another reason for obtaining signatures. It was to compare them with the false signatures written on the "Charlie" and "Edmund" notes."

O'Hara then showed large photographs of Martina's signature, then the signatures from the notes. They appeared to be the same.

"Mlle. Soubrette, were these three written by your hand?"

"No, Monsieur. Only the one with my name…that is my signature. The others must be forged."

"Very well."

O'Hara faced the court momentarily.

"We also asked the witnesses what their heights are; the defendant is five foot six, too short to have dealt the dorsal blow and M. Thibaut is six foot two, too tall to have dealt the same. Mlle. Soubrette, at five foot ten is in the correct range. Also, being a woman, she may not have had the strength to deal the frontal blows, but the first one, done while embracing the decedent, could most definitely have been done by a woman.

"We also have a bloody knife with the defendant's fingerprints on it. We have just received new evidence, another knife, found in the trash chute with fingerprints on it. The information about whose prints they are is still unknown…the police are working on that. The knife is available for the jury to inspect.

"Mlle. Soubrette's prints were found on the typewriter in the theatre office, as were the office staff's prints. However, Mlle. Soubrette would not normally have a reason to use this typewriter. The defendant and M. Thibaut do not know how to type." He addressed the witness. "Can you explain why your fingerprints were on the typewriter?"

"I had to type something quickly and no secretary was around at night."

"Can you tell us why your fingerprints were on the two notes sent to the defendant and the decedent?"

"I do not know." Martina started looking a bit pale.

A police officer came in the courtroom and handed O'Hara a note. He handed it to the judge and Walsh. Then O'Hara announced, "The prints on the second knife have been identified as M. Raoul Thibaut."

At this Raoul stood up and said, pointing to Martina, "She made me do it…she was crazy, wanting to get rid of ze girl McGuire…she think McGuire sing better than she…she think if she get rid of the lover, the girl quit the company…

Martina stood up and screamed, "You! You were jealous of ze tenor, too, you do not object when I say kill him!" She screamed again and fainted. Raoul started running out of the courtroom, but was apprehended.

The judge pounded his gavel for order in the courtroom. After Raoul and Martina had been taken away, he said, "This case is dismissed. The defendant is free to go."


	12. An Ending

Charlie stood up, slightly surprised at the dramatic and quick ending to the trial. He shook hands with his attorney, the detective and Ed McGuire. He hugged and kissed Carol the waitress and thanked her for her help. Sonya was still sitting on the other side of the courtroom, looking stunned. The last few minutes of the trial were a whirlwind and she was shocked that Charlie wasn't guilty.

Charlie put on his jacket, and with his hat and walking stick in hand, went over to Sonya.

"Sonya?"

She didn't say anything. She turned her face away from him.

"Are y' a'roigh'?"

Sonya turned around, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Charlie…I really thought you had done it…."

"It's a'roigh', Sonya. I understan'."

"I'm so embarrassed…"

Can I walk y' 'ome?"

She nodded.

"I never got to really say 'ow sorry I am tha' Edmund is gone…I miss 'im too."

"Yes, you were a good friend…" she looked up at him. "Yes, Charlie, you were always a very good friend! I'm so sorry, I really misunderstood."

"It was th' grief, Sonya."

"One doctor called it melancholy. Another said I had a nervous breakdown."

"Bu' it's in th' past now."

"Do you want your job back at the hardware store? You can have your old room back, too. We didn't get anyone to replace you…"

"Maybe I'll do tha'…But wha' bout y' job at the theatre?"

"I don't know…I'll have to talk to Mr. Gould. Now he doesn't have Martina or Raoul any more. I wish Edmund were here…" She started to cry again. Charlie held her and stroked her back comfortingly.

"Charlie, you should try out for the orchestra. Your violin playing is beautiful…"

"I only play by ear, ducks, I can't read no music."

"You could learn…"

"Ain't got no ambition to learn. Bein' in a orchestra…that ain't me style. I'm more th' itinerant minstrel. Bu' y'self, the singin' runs in yer blood. Ye gotta get back to singin'."

Charlie escorted Sonya back home and Ed was already there, along with Seamus O'Hara and Tom McShane. Ed gave Charlie a bear hug and Charlie thanked them all again profusely for helping him.

"Why did y' concentrate on Mr. Thibaut an' Miss Soubrette? Coulda been any one o' the company…" asked Charlie.

"We even had a bit more evidence we didn't need to use…and Martina and Raoul have confessed to everything. They are sister and brother. They were also the only members of the company absent from the performance when Edmund was killed. The notes were given to Edmund first, delivered by Martina herself, before the opera started, because Edmund wouldn't be around to identify anyone, and the other note was stuffed in the pocket of the usher who delivered it to Charlie.

"Martina was in love with Edmund, but angry that he was going to marry Sonya. Her love had turned to hate. Raoul wanted him out of the way because he was afraid he would get his job, seeing as he was a better singer. Martina also wanted him out of the way in order to get rid of and hurt Sonya. She was also afraid of losing her job to Sonya. Charlie was a good person to accuse of the crime because he had an unknown background and it didn't seem that he would be able to afford a good lawyer to defend him. It was also very convenient that he had been linked romantically with Sonya, therefore the jealousy factor.

"In any case, when Edmund came down to the lounge looking for Charlie, Martina came out of the secret door and started talking to him, embracing him as if she were going to kiss him. Instead she plunged a knife into his back. As he fell, Raoul came out of the secret door and finished Edmund off with the other knife. They both escaped down the secret passageways, Martina forgetting her knife. Charlie came down, and seeing Edmund, was in shock and absently picked up the bloody knife. Then Sonya came into the lounge looking for Edmund, saw Charlie and assumed he had killed Edmund.

"Charlie also escaped via the secret passageways and that's why the police couldn't find him."

They talked a bit more about the case and Charlie thanked them again profusely. Then Ed said, "Will you stay with us again, Charlie?" Charlie nodded. "You can have your old job back again, too…the customers miss your shenanigans!"

During the following week, Charlie had a very nice reunion with his two old friends. Sonya was so sorry about what she had put him through, that she waited on Charlie hand and foot.

On Sunday night Charlie and Sonya sat in the porch swing. They had their arms around each other and her head was on his shoulder. It seemed like old times.

"Charlie, maybe this is too soon, but I have to tell you. Since the trial ended, I realize I really love you. Did you ever think about getting married?"

He didn't answer.

"Charlie?"

He smiled. "Yeah, I thought about it."

"Well, what do you say?"

"I think yer daydreamin' again, Sonya. Y' were so angry wi' me when y' were thinkin' tha' I was th' murderer ; An' it's too soon…"

"Oh, Charlie, will you marry me? I really mean it…"

"Ain't I s'posed to ask yer tha'?"

"Well, yes, but times are changing…"

"An' y' did not even get down on y' knee to ask me!" he teased, in mock indignation.

"You want me to?"

"No, ducks. Ye know, if Edmund were here, y' would not be askin' me tha'."

"I know, but I love you too…"

"I feel more like yer older brother than someone y' should marry. I always loved y' Sonya, from the first time I 'eard y' sing, but I really ain't nothin' but a ol' tramp. Ye should marry someone like Edmund, wi' a future."

"But I know now I want you…you're not a tramp any more, you fit in with our family very nicely. And if you're thinking that you're too old for me, well, age doesn't matter to me, sweetie."

"I know it don't …let's ge' some sleep. Yer Papa wants me to start work tomorra." He kissed her softly, then embraced her and kissed her again, longer this time, not wanting it to end. He touched her cheek and gave her a sad look. Then he smiled and said softly, "Me lit'tle daydreamer."

Charlie and Sonya parted that night without Sonya getting a straight answer from Charlie.

On Monday morning, Sonya knocked on the door to Charlie's room. "Are you dressed, sweetie? Can I come in?" There wasn't any answer. She opened the door. Charlie wasn't there.

"Pa, did you see Charlie this morning?"

"I did."

"Where is he?"

"He said to give you this note…"

Sonya opened the note. It read:

_Deares Sonya, I do not meene to caus ye no grefe, but ye woud be betta off witout me. Plees no that I love ye mor than I kin sye. But me lifestile an yers aint the syme. I cannot be wut I aint. Plees donot eva think bad o me. Giv a big hug to me ol frend Eddy. Bes wishes fer yer singin in the opra. Mybe I cum bye a gaine som dye to hear y' sing. Mybe no. But keepe me in yer hart. I keepe ye in myne fer eva. Yer lovin Charlie._

If Sonya would have looked out the window at that moment, she would have seen Charlie walking away, down the road, his odd gait a little slower than usual. But she wouldn't have seen his blue eyes wet with a tear.

**The End**


End file.
